


The Truth You Might Be Runnin' From

by The_Lionheart



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Gen, M/M, Male Friendship, Mental Institutions, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mistaken Identity, Suicide, asylum AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:03:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lionheart/pseuds/The_Lionheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Think about how many times I have fallen,<br/>spirits are using me, larger voices callin'.<br/>What heaven brought you and me cannot be forgotten...<br/>~<i>Southern Cross</i>, Crosby Stills & Nash</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truth You Might Be Runnin' From

**Author's Note:**

  * For [invictofiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/invictofiction/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Someone Who Can Not Love You Back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/359797) by [invictofiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/invictofiction/pseuds/invictofiction). 



> This fic contains content that is potentially triggering: mental institutions, suicidal thoughts and behavior, suicide, a former sex worker who was physically attacked and permanently disfigured, sexual situations with dubious consent issues, implied past homophobia, and generally abusive and ableist language. 
> 
> I feel I should explain the dubcon: Person A becomes disoriented, mistakenly assumes Person B is trying to attack them. Person B assumes Person A is attacking him in order to force sexual contact, and initiates unwanted sexual contact in order to feel like he has some modicum of control over the situation. It's all a big mess, and you can skip over that scene if you hop from "If the growling doesn't wake Loki up" to "“Okay?” he asks, and Bruce glares up at him."

“Name?” The nurse was young- younger, at least, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun, the nametag at her breast reading Hill, M. He twitches at the way she stares, it's fucking rude is what it is, and he loathes her, everything about her screams _you in the straightjacket, you're not worthy of basic human consideration_. He tells her his name, which she jots down and scowls at.

“Lucky Larson,” she repeats, already turning away.

“It's Loki,” he snarls, tears pricking at his eyes, because fuck it, it's his name, it's his fucking _name_ and it's all he's got anymore. “Loki, you fucking shitbag, don't you fucking-”

And now, right on cue, the big burly nurse comes in to drag Loki back to his room. Cell? Room. The man's dirty-blonde hair is thinning up top and his cornflower eyes are so damn tired-looking, but he's- maybe Loki's age? Not much older, at any rate. The tag on his shirt reads Barton, C. He must be covering for someone's shift, because the tags are color-coded, the nurses in this wing wear green and his is purple.

He half-walks, half-carries Loki to the room, hesitates only a moment before opening the door and leading Loki to a bed against the wall. There's another bed in the room, which is currently occupied.

“Hey, Bruce, brought you a new roommate,” he says softly, just a hint of the Midwest in his accent- Loki recognizes it, it's oddly comforting because it's just so familiar. “Guy named Loki.”

The guy on the other bed is skinny, his hair a messy tangle of dark brown, and when he raises his eyes to peer at Loki through his glasses, he just looks so damn sad that Loki almost wants to do something about it.

“You think this prison can hold _him_?” Bruce asks softly, lowering his head. “It was designed for the Hulk. SHIELD's R &D department couldn't have had much basis to work on the idea of suppressing his magic.”

“What,” Loki says flatly, glancing over at Nurse Barton. “What the actual fuck?” Barton sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose a little.

“I'll see you when my shift's over, Bruce. Play nice with the new guy,” Barton mutters, briefly squeezing Bruce's shoulder before turning to leave. As soon as the door shuts, Loki scrambles awkwardly to his feet, why the hell do these people insist on a fucking straightjacket? It's fucking barbaric is what it is.

He makes it over to Bruce's bed, anyhow, plopping down onto the edge and biting back the urge to throw a tantrum when Bruce flinches back. It's been almost a year since the- The Incident, okay, and Loki's gotten used to people reacting badly to the sight of his face.

“Are you actually fucking crazy?” Loki demands, squinting a bit. “I mean, seriously, what was with the... magic and... all that other stuff you just said?” Bruce just smiles faintly at him, and when he speaks it's so low, it's almost like he's talking to himself more than anything else.

“I don't know what you're planning, Loki,” and see, if the crazy guy can get Loki's name right on the first try, how come that bitchass nurse can't? “Just give up now. When your brother gets back, we'll be unstoppable.”

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said that I don't even know if you got anything but my name right,” Loki says finally, leaning forward to try to wrangle himself back to his feet. “I don't have a brother, for one-”

Bruce's hand is at his elbow, and he's actually- he actually helps Loki up, which is weird enough that Loki has to watch him for a minute as they're shuffling over to Loki's bed. Okay.

“I know you feel like you don't have a brother,” Bruce sighs, shaking his head. “But Thor really cares about you. He's your brother, and he'll always love you. You should know that.”

Loki blinks, tilting his head slightly. He might not be an educated man, but he's read a lot over the years, and when he makes the connection he actually laughs a little.

“Dude, no, listen. Thor wasn't Loki's brother,” he corrects, grinning. “ _Odin_ was. Well, technically, some sort of a blood brother thing, not really related, but it was the Vikings and who even- okay, you're not going to listen, you're just going to walk back over to your bed,” Loki sighs towards Bruce's retreating back. “Lovely. Okay. Let's just get this straight, if you expect me to put up with your bullshit rambling I'm gonna expect you to at least get your mythology right.”

Bruce has no response, curling up on his bed in some kind of yoga-looking thing. Loki stares, then flops down onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.

“This is beyond ridiculous,” he mutters softly. “I don't even fucking belong here. I'm not even crazy.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The psychiatrist assigned to work with Loki seems unconvinced of his argument.

“Mr. Larson, please,” Dr. Foster sighs, and Loki puts his feet up on her desk, just to be a contrary bitch.

“Nope. Guess you're going to have to get one of those goons in here to toss me back into my room,” Loki says with an exaggerated yawn. Foster shakes her head, looking down at her notes. She won't look directly at his face, he's realized. Loki isn't sure if he's grateful or if he hates her for it.

“Seriously, Doctor. I'm thirty-six, I have no family, and I can't pursue my former line of work because I look like this,” he says roughly, shrugging his shoulder towards the left side of his face. “And, alright, my former line of work is basically twenty years of being a diseased whore. At this point, it would be crazy _not_ to kill myself.”

Foster looks at him then, and her eyes are full of pity, and Loki does hate her.

“Do you want to talk about your... accident?” she asks hesitantly, and fury explodes out of Loki in a whirlwind of snarling obscenity.

“Do you really fucking think this was a fucking accident?” he shrieks, on his feet, kicking her desk with his slippered feet. “Huh? Some guy just tripped over his shoelaces and cut half my fucking face open? Is that like some kind of fucking common fucking occurrence in these parts?”

“Mr. Larson,” Foster warns, but there's no fucking point, these asshole bastards think they're doing the right thing by forcing Loki to live with this, and he can't even do anything about it, and he hasn't had anything good in so fucking long that he just wants to break something- although he suspects he did, because his foot, _fuck_ , this is all that fucking bitch's fucking fault-

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The only good thing about limping around in a fucking cast, now, is that they take the straightjacket off so he can maneuver his crutches. Great. And, apparently, the geniuses in charge of this place decide that it's okay for Loki to interact with other patients, so he finds himself stuck in a big room full of drooling idiots.

There are a couple of guys hunkered around a table, and there's an empty seat near them, so Loki goes over and sits down. The scrawny blonde guy gives him a troubled sort of glare.

“Loki?” he asks, and, okay, he gets points for getting the name right but loses some for being such a gossip. “What are you doing here?”

“Jack and shit,” Loki replies easily, squinting around the table because he refuses to admit that he probably needs glasses. “You guys seem a little more coherent than the rest of the assholes in this place.”

The other guy snorts a laugh- dark hair, scrawny, ragged beard, and holy shit, isn't that Tony Stark? Loki asks, and he nods.

Tony's story, according to the newspapers, back when Loki was living in the real world, was this: eccentric genius, rich as balls, goes on one too many benders before destroying everything his father built for him. Loki always imagined that rich guys like Stark would end up in some nice private facility for “resting.” Apparently you don't get that privilege when you're destitute due to your own love of hookers and coke.

Tony's story, according to the man, is a lot more... interesting.

“It was Doom,” he mutters, sketching something on the table with a shaking fingertip. “I'm losing... I'm losing the details, it's the fucking drugs, but I remember... he created some kind of device that opened a portal to a pocket dimension or, or an alternate dimension, and threw us all in there, me and Steve, Bruce and Thor and the others, so he could... so he could...” Tony's hands fist in his hair as he squeezes his eyes shut, and then he actually starts crying, slapping the sides of his head. Skinny blonde guy cries out, reaches for Tony's wrists to stop him. Loki leans back in his chair, infinitely weary.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs, because what in the ever-loving fuck. More nurses- guards- whatever, some burly dudes in uniform show up, it's Jackson and Delancey and they're actually decent people, as far as Loki can tell, and they lead Tony gently but firmly away. The skinny blonde kid looks over at Loki, his eye calculating, which is almost cute- okay, actually, it's sort of cute and creepy at the same time.

“Did you do this?” he asks seriously, and Loki raises one eyebrow. He's practiced it since he was a kid, so he can get that damn thing up by his hairline now.

“Did I do what, man? Be specific,” Loki asks, and wonders if it's too late to just spend the rest of the night with Bruce, listening to his rambling nonsense.

“Did you do this?” he asks again, and Loki rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. I arranged for Tony Stark to fuck himself over so that he got dumped in this shithole instead of some celebrity rehab center. Likewise I arranged for... you, whoever the hell you are, to be locked up in here with him for reasons I have yet to determine. It's my fuckin' lot in life, man, just driving people nuts in this joint.”

“And Bruce?” Skinny guy asks, and Loki narrows his eyes a little.

“You kidding? That nutjob was crazy when I got here.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“You sure have a lot of friends for someone who never fucking leaves the room,” Loki mutters, a few nights later. Skinny guy is Steve Rogers- kid was on trial for a little while because he was some kind of wannabe vigilante, and then the court-appointed shrinks figured out that this ninety-pound weakling was actually just as batshit insane as Bruce. Loki thinks he remembers watching coverage of that trial, simply because all the newscasters thought the defendant was a precious little lamb.

“It's hard to leave when you're in prison,” Bruce murmurs, surprising the shit out of Loki. Loki grunts, folding his arms. Half the time Bruce speaks in pure Zen bullshit and the other half it's just Bruce's normal crazy bullshit. This might fall under either.

“Yeah, well, same to you, pal. You know Tony Stark's in your fan club too? Tell you what, I'd suck that guy's dick if I didn't think Steve had dibs,” Loki yawns, stretching out a bit. “Tell you something else, your crazy is contagious. Your weird little persecution complex would be really sad if it wasn't kinda funny like that.”

“Loki,” Bruce says quietly, sitting up. “Why are you here?” Loki glances over, thinking for a minute.

“Because I tried to jump off a bridge, I guess,” he says, gazing resolutely up at the ceiling. “And I tried to do it when there were enough people around to stop me. I won't make that mistake _next_ time, man.”

“Thor told us about what happened on the Rainbow Bridge,” Bruce says, oh Jesus. “It destroyed him, thinking you were dead.”

“I'm really not in the mood, Bruce,” Loki mutters, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Seriously, man, just cut that shit out. Nobody cares about me, nobody ever has, and when I die- if they ever find the body- I'll be dumped in some unmarked grave somewhere and I'll be forgotten. It'll be like I never even existed.”

“Loki,” Bruce says softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed now. Loki turns his back, pulling his limp pillow over his head.

“Just leave me the fuck alone and go back to sleep, Bruce,” he mutters, and is both relieved and deeply disappointed when Bruce leaves again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Loki just wants to play cards- hell, he'll play Go Fish, he'll play Old Maid, he should have been _extremely suspicious_ when Tony agreed to play Hearts with him, because Tony's leaning close, refusing to do anything with his hand as he spews more of the crazy nonsense.

“It's affected everyone differently,” he says urgently. “Steve and Bruce seem like they're stuck in some kind of loop, where they're still back home. I've tried explaining to them, but it just... doesn't take, it's like something's preventing them from hearing or understanding. Coulson's a shrink here, and I saw Darcy at the reception desk, but I still don't know where Clint and Natasha and Thor are- I think, god, I think I'm the only one who knows what's going on here and remembers everything from back there.”

“Do you even know how to play Hearts?” Loki asks, sighing. “Look, if it's too hard, I think there's an Uno deck around here somewhere-”

“Are you even fucking listening?” Tony's warm brown eyes are burning. “I'm saying we need to work together to get out of here, Loki, it's the only solution, you need to help me convince the ones who don't remember- god, if Barton's still out there somewhere, I don't know how to find him-”

“Nurse Barton?” Loki squints a little, and Tony actually freezes. “Why do you want to involve the nursing staff in your little breakout plan, Tony?”

“...Loki, please,” Tony breathes out. “Please, I know you remember everything, somewhere in your head, okay? It's in you _somewhere_ , and right now I'd take the evil you that wants to rule mankind over this... version of you that doesn't want anything.”

“That's not accurate,” Loki chides, using his hand to build a rudimentary house of cards. “I wouldn't say no to a cheeseburger and an hour in bed with Johnny Depp. Hey, at this point I'd settle for some oreos and ten minutes in a closet with _you_.”

“Loki,” Tony half-sobs, grabbing him by the arm. “Please. Please, just... just remember, just stop this, you want to go back as much as I do, okay?”

“Tony, there's nothing for me to go back to,” Loki snaps, shaking his hand off. “The only reason I want out of this place is so I can have somewhere nice and quiet to slit my wrists without some asshole breathing down my neck.”

It's the wrong thing to say. Tony breaks down weeping, right there, and Loki feels bad, but on the other hand- on the other hand, he's not actually crazy, and he doesn't have to feed Tony Stark's insane delusions.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Nurse Barton usually visits once a day, sometimes two or three times. Usually his visits bring a smile to Bruce's face; sometimes Bruce retreats into himself afterwards. This is one of those times.

Loki can't sleep. He can't sleep because Bruce is crying softly into his pillow. Sighing, Loki hobbles over, sitting down with a hand tangling itself in Bruce's hair.

“Don't cry,” he whispers, leaning closer. “Don't cry, Bruce. It's not so bad, is it? You've got all these people who like you, you know? Not just crazies, either. Your friend Nurse Barton cares about you.”

“Clint,” Bruce whispers, letting Loki pull his shoulders until his head rests in Loki's lap. “Clint Barton. World's greatest marksman.” And there's a ghost of a smile, even through the tears.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Loki agrees, fingers kneading the knots at the base of Bruce's shoulders. “Because _that's_ a marketable talent. Why don't you tell me where you two met?”

“Brazil-” Bruce begins, his brow furrowing. “...no. New York. The Helicarrier. We were meeting the team for the first time. The team assembled to fight you.”

“Oh, wow, okay,” Loki sighs, massaging little circles into the sides of Bruce's forehead. “And I guess that makes me the bad guy, then?”

“You tried to destroy the world,” Bruce murmurs, and Loki whistles.

“Not bad for a streetwalker from Minnesota, huh?” he jokes, smiling.

“Thor told us that you're really from Jotunheim,” Bruce sighs. “A barren wasteland of ice and snow.”

“That's basically Minnesota, yeah,” Loki nods, and Bruce snakes an arm around his waist, effectively pinning him there. Loki's mouth twists into an unhappy little frown, but what can you do? Bruce is still crying, but at least it's quieter now, at least it's not the horribly broken noise he was making earlier. Loki leans down a little, pressing a little peck of a kiss against Bruce's cheek. He thinks it might be the first time in his life he's kissed someone like that.

“You're kind of beautiful when you're not trying to kill us,” Bruce says softly, and Loki sighs, shrugging.

“You're only saying that because you don't know what I really look like, aren't you?” he asks, and Bruce sniffles a little.

“I've seen your true face, Loki. You're not a monster,” he says, and Loki huffs out a weak little laugh.

“Okay, Bruce. Whatever you say.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

If the growling doesn't wake Loki up, it's being tackled onto his back that does it. It takes Loki a few seconds to get his bearings before he realizes that he's still in Bruce's bed and that it's Bruce on top of him, hazel eyes wide and furious, lips pulled back in an animalistic snarl. He may be a skinny little fuck, but shit, he's stronger than he _looks_.

“Ease up,” Loki wheezes out, a hand around his throat, fuck, fuck, that was apparently the last time Bruce is going to let him breathe or speak.

“What did you do to Hulk, puny god?” Bruce snarls, and shit, even his voice sounds different, that's some fucking Jekyll-and-Hyde shit. “Why Hulk stuck in puny Banner?”

_Please_ , Loki tries to tell him, _I don't know what the fuck you're talking about_ , but he can't actually say it, his mouth is moving and his lungs are burning and nothing. Loki can't shake Bruce off, either, he's not even that heavy but he's right on top of- oh jeez, really? Loki's almost- no, he's definitely disappointed, because he thinks he'd ought to know by now what kind of guys will want something from him, and which ones will try to take it by force. Maybe giving Bruce what he wants won't end up with Bruce killing him tonight.

Loki cants his hips up, keeps one hand near Bruce's to try and pry his fingers free, the other reaching down between them. His fingers close around Bruce's cock through his pants and he presses slightly, and Bruce inhales sharply through his nose, his grip lessening just enough for Loki to finally, finally choke down some air.

“What you doing, puny god?” Bruce breathes out, his forehead pressing against Loki's. It's not entirely unpleasant, if it wasn't for the still-terrifying grip Bruce has on him. “Don't-”

“You like it,” Loki rasps, slipping his hand past the waistband of Bruce's institutional-looking sweatpants. “Isn't this what you wanted? It's okay, Bruce. You don't have to hurt me to get it, okay?”

“Hulk not- not like that,” Bruce growls, eyes closing. Loki's thumb swipes over the leaking head, relief figuratively crushing his chest as Bruce's hand moves away from his bruised throat to literally crush Loki's shoulder. “You- hands-”

“Hey, it's okay, I won't tell anybody,” Loki reassures him, because he won't. He's gotten used to Bruce, he mostly likes him, and hey, it's not like he didn't know Bruce was more than a little crazy when he got here. Loki doesn't think he wants to be moved to a different room, or for anything to happen to Bruce over this. “It's okay, it's okay,” he repeats, nuzzling against the corner of Bruce's jaw.

It doesn't take all that long- Bruce pawing ineffectually at Loki's chest and hips, Loki pressing soft little nibbles against the crook of Bruce's neck. A couple minutes, tops, before Bruce is shaking slightly over him and breathing hard and high and fast and coming in his pants and onto Loki's hand. Loki carefully tips Bruce onto his side before letting go and cleaning his hand off on Bruce's sheets.

“Okay?” he asks, and Bruce glares up at him, nothing like the soft, vague expression he usually has.

“Didn't want that. Didn't want _you_ ,” he hisses through his teeth. Loki nods, going back over to his bed.

“That's generally how it ends up,” he says calmly, sitting down with his back pressed against the wall, his legs folded beneath him. “Look, I said it before, I'm gonna say it again. You don't need to hurt me if you need something, Bruce. I like you, and it doesn't bother me. Just don't... just don't do that again, okay?”

“Not puny Banner,” Bruce snarls, and Loki tenses a little, watching him for a moment.

“...okay, really, you just... you need to stop,” Loki says flatly, looking down at his hands. “I have zero problem throwing you a fuck whenever you need it, but I swear to fucking god that crazy bullshit has got to end.”

Bruce doesn't say anything else after that, peeling his filthy clothes off and sprawling naked on the bed. He spends a few minutes examining himself, mostly sounding disgusted, before directing his baleful gaze Loki's way.

Just as Loki finally gives in to the need to sleep, he notices that Bruce is doing the one thing he's never done, staring at Loki's face as if- as if he actually sees the scars there.

It occurs to Loki that he actually had a chance to die tonight, and went out of his way to live. _Fuck_.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Bruce,” Steve and Tony shout simultaneously, which is more creepy than anything else. Bruce flinches back, nostrils flaring, and Loki waves his hands in front of him.

“Hey, guys, heads up. Bruce doesn't want to be called that right now,” he says, feeling unreasonably cheerful. “But he's feeling good enough to actually walk around and do shit, and that's a motherfucking improvement if I do say so myself.”

“...Hulk?” Tony asks cautiously, and Loki just wants to die a little on the inside, in addition to just plain dying.

“Come on, are you kidding me?” he whines. “I've been trying to convince him not to do that shit and you just toss it out there thirty seconds after seeing him? Christ, Tony.”

“He doesn't remember anything about- us,” Steve whispers, sounding almost sad. Bruce snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Hulk gathered,” he sneers. “How you gonna fix, Stark?”

“What, Loki or the situation?” Tony asks, sounding relieved- almost giddy, actually.

“All of it,” Bruce says firmly. Tony's smile fades, and he just shakes his head, his shoulders slumping.

“Magic and science. I just don't know. I just don't know anymore- I don't have access to anything, and I can... I can feel my mind going,” he whispers, and if this wasn't the most redundant statement ever uttered in a fucking mental hospital Loki would feel really bad for him right now. “Loki was my only hope of getting at least the magic angle, and he's basically useless.”

“Dick,” Loki snaps, as Steve winces. “Seriously, fuck off, Tony. You know what I think? I think you're making Bruce _worse_ with all this 'we can be heroes' crap you're spouting.”

“Loki, you don't know what you're talking about,” Tony mutters, which is exactly enough to bring on the full blast of the wrath of Loki today.

“Like fuck I don't, Stark! You know what I have to deal with every day? I have to see Bruce's best fucking friend come in, fucking exhausted from taking care of useless pricks like you and Rogers here, and spend hours every night just trying to talk to Bruce, just trying to get any kind of response out of him that isn't wrapped up in your sick little made-up fantasy bullshit.” Loki jabs him in the center of his chest, hard, and Steve and Bruce actually gasp, like Loki could actually hurt Tony. “You've ruined Bruce's life, you're ruining Barton's, and you're ruining _mine_ because I have to fucking deal with Bruce after Barton leaves, all crying and horny and shit.”

“What,” Steve says flatly, looking over at Bruce now with a stern expression. “Hulk, what's Loki talking about?”

“You know what? You fucking retards come get me if you decide to rejoin the rest of us in reality,” Loki grunts, turning to leave. He pauses, mainly because he's fucking pissed at Bruce now, and puts a finger in the man's face. “Next time you want a handjob, don't fucking try to kill me first. Just fucking ask.”

Tony and Steve both look equally horrified. Assholes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bruce doesn't say shit to Loki when he finally comes back to their room. Good.

But then Barton comes in and he gives Bruce a hopeful little smile, and Loki's stomach clenches a little.

“Hey, Bruce. I heard you went out today,” he says softly. Bruce looks up at him, and Loki can see Barton deflate a little.

“Hey, Cupid,” Bruce says, in that creepy rough voice, but sounding... just a little hesitant. Barton's face crumples, and Loki rolls over, not wanting to see any more of this and fucking hating Tony Stark for making this happen.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There's a new guy in their wing, and Dr. Foster's his psychiatrist. Loki learns a lot about him in the first few minutes of their session, and then he actually sits up straight and hisses sharply.

“Doctor, stop. Can you hear yourself? You're totally in love with this guy!” he accuses, a hand over his mouth.

“Mr. Larson, please, I'm not in love with Dr. Blake,” she deflects, glancing aside.

“Oh my god, and he's a doctor, too? And he's crazy,” Loki snickers, covering his face. “Oh my god. Is he a gynecologist? Because then that would actually cross the line between 'bad' and 'so bad it's good.' Please tell me he's a vag doctor.”

“That's inappropriate,” Foster says sternly, peering over her glasses at him. “Mr. Larson-”

“Just don't go all Harley Quinn on this guy, Doctor,” Loki suggests, and is disheartened by the blank stare he gets in return. “...Harley Quinn? No. You're not going to try to say you're less of a nerd than I am, that's obscene in it's unfairness.”

“It's time for you to leave,” Foster mutters, signaling for the orderlies to take Loki back. The rest of his day is pretty much same old, same old- food, couple hours of doing “productive” things like making baskets or flower arrangements, and then a group session. Group sessions are sort of mandatory, in that half the time nobody Loki likes or talks to goes, but certain patients- Loki, for example- are forced to so that they can be pulled “out of their shells.” Loki made exactly one crack, back when he first got here, about how that's usually lethal for, say, oysters, and then the joke got old real fast.

The new guy's in the group session, though. He seems nice enough, although he walks with a cane and what Loki suspects to be a highly exaggerated limp, but when it comes to his turn to speak he merely shakes his head and gives Loki a really weird look. His name's Donald Blake, and he's not a vag doctor, just a regular general practitioner, which makes Loki sad.

Loki doesn't speak during the group session, either. Mostly he just thinks about what he's missing on TV right now- he's pissed off that he hasn't had a chance to catch any of the new season of Mad Men, and he's sad that he won't get to see the last Batman movie anytime soon. If he pretends his feelings are about not having any family or friends, or the fact that he's only good for one or two things anymore, it's usually enough to get people to leave him alone.

But not enough, apparently, for Dr. Blake, because afterwards, when Loki wanders off in search of Steve or Tony or Bruce- not that he's forgiven them, but any port in a storm- the guy follows Loki. Maybe he realizes that Loki's one of the few people in this place who isn't convinced he's a superhero, and wants to talk to someone who knows who the President is. And then they can gossip about Dr. Foster, haha.

Of course, when Loki (tailed by Blake) gets to the other guys, they all jump up.

“Thor!” Steve cries out, and Blake picks him up in a crushing hug.

“My friends!” Dr. Blake booms- Donald- whatever, Loki's going to call him Don and think about John Hamm when he does so. Loki just runs a hand over the smooth side of his face and tries not to burst into hysterics.

“Are you even fucking kidding me right now,” he asks flatly, watching what appears to be a heartfelt reunion. “More of this bullshit? Really?” He flops onto a chair, but he does so _dramatically_ , and nobody seems to take notice of his complaint or the effort he puts into looking dramatic. Because they're all a bunch of dickbags.

“So let me guess,” Loki asks, once Don's actually looking his way again. “You're also a member of the Justice League, along with Sybil, Skinny Minnie, and the Charlie Sheen of engineering.” Don's face is almost comically confused, and it would be cute if it wasn't just one more nail in the coffin of Bruce's sanity. The more they do this the more pissed-off Loki gets.

“I do not understand your meaning, brother,” Don says, and Tony rolls his eyes and gives Loki an evil look.

“He's being a douchebag, Thor. I'm thinking that's about the only thing he has in common with his old self.” Tony and Loki get in a little contest of who can nonchalantly flip the other one off, which ends in a draw. Steve's already getting winded, the poor dear, and he sits down near Loki, careful not to let any part of him touch any part of Loki's skin or clothing.

“There is much I don't understand about this place,” Don says, in that serious booming voice of his. “This world does not remember the Avengers. I have seen Director Fury and my sweet Jane-” And that's probably why she's already in love with him, sigh. “-as well as Lady Darcy and our Natasha, but none of them knew me.”

“You saw Natasha here, too? Where? We haven't seen her at all,” Steve sounds worried, although Loki's not surprised, if their little friend is crazy she's probably not likely to be housed in the men's ward.

“She is the physical therapist assigned to help me with this,” and Thor gestures futilely at his gimp leg, frowning. “It was... painful to see so many of my friends and to not be recognized. And then I came upon Loki, and he...”

“Different person,” Bruce grunts, shrugging. “Doesn't remember. Doesn't care.”

“You might _think_ you're being cute, but you're not,” Loki says, picking up a nearby magazine. It's an US Weekly from three years ago. “I think I prefer when you hang out in our room and mumble about the sands of time being drawn by the winds of change and whatever.”

“Douchebag,” Tony reasserts, and Don sighs.

“Brother, please, your cooperation would be most helpful in this time of hardship,” Don tells him, looking upset.

“How many times do I have to tell you people that I was an only child?” Loki marvels. “Seriously? I didn't even have cousins. I was the only child of only children. Nobody should be calling me their brother unless they're that hot guy from Lost.”

“You see what we have to put up with?” Tony demands, and Don shrugs unhappily.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bruce perches on the edge of Loki's bed that night, but it's the intense, unflinching gaze of the _other_ that meets Loki's eyes. Loki sighs, propping himself up on his elbows.

“What do you want, Bruce?” he asks, already kind of tired.

“Don't call me that,” Bruce snarls, irrationally angry. “Not puny Banner.”

“I'm not calling you Hulk,” Loki says simply. “Not in a million years. Don't you have a middle name?”

“Bruce is the middle name,” Bruce glowers, and Loki has to laugh, okay, because it's just... how is this even his life?

“Yeah, okay. What do you want, Pumpkin?” Bruce shifts closer, staring intently at Loki's face for a minute or two and, frankly, making Loki terribly uncomfortable.

“They told Hulk what you did,” he rumbles, ignoring Loki's pointed look. “What you do. Try to end your life like puny Banner.”

“You try to kill yourself?” Loki wonders if it makes him a hypocrite that this actually kind of hurts him. He likes Bruce. It actually... it really sucks to think about Bruce succeeding.

“Not anymore. Not the point,” Bruce snaps, jabbing a finger at Loki. “Point is why.”

“Why... oh,” Loki sighs, rolling his eyes a little. “Pretty sure we've had this conversation before, Angel. And I'm sure it's nothing you haven't guessed already.”

“Tell me,” Bruce says simply, and Loki eyeballs him a bit before shrugging.

“Whatever you say.” Loki stretches out a little, folding his arms behind his head. “My life's meaningless. You know what? I haven't done a single thing right. I figured I was some kind of special snowflake growing up, because I figured I was smarter than the other hicks in the middle of nowhere town I grew up in. But I wasn't smart enough to wait until I was eighteen to come out to my parents, and then I just... I was fifteen, on the streets, I wanted to move somewhere warmer and I needed a way to convince people to take me places.”

Loki pauses, because he doesn't necessarily want to spell it out for Bruce, and the man's still just staring at Loki, like he's nothing but pent-up anger and frustration. Well, actually, that sounds about right. Loki offers him a crooked little grin.

“I made all these grand plans about how I was going to get my shit together and get my GED and get a real job, and then I could meet some nice normal guy and settle down, but I kept putting it off, thinking I wasn't ready, I didn't have enough money not to work for a couple months, I didn't know anything about how to make it in the real world... eventually I hit thirty-five and some crazy European guy comes at me with a knife. So now I'm basically... I can still work, I guess, but I'm not making any real money anymore and I can't be all that choosy about who I'm with because I look like this.”

Bruce leans closer, presses a rough, callused thumb against the corner of his mouth, where scar tissue forms a jagged line up through Loki's cheek. Loki blinks at him, his eyes burning, his throat aching and hollow.

“I thought... I figured that if I made a spectacle of it, maybe my dad's still alive, maybe he'd see it and feel like a dick for kicking me out when I was a kid. Now I don't even care if anyone knows. I just want this to be _over_ already.” Loki jerks his face away from Bruce's hand, clearing his throat a bit.

“What happened to meet nice guy, settle down?” Bruce asks, and Loki actually laughs, and it's a cold and bitter sound that escapes him.

“Nobody in their right mind would want me,” he chokes out, sitting up, and Bruce actually pushes him back a little, crouching over him with a hand on either side of his chest.

“We're _crazy_ ,” Bruce reminds him, and Loki doesn't... doesn't know what to make of this. He doesn't understand why Bruce is doing this. Bruce using him for a quick one-off fix, because he needs to relieve stress or just needs to be touched? That's fine. But now Bruce is leaning close, biting at his mouth like he's only ever seen pictures of other people kissing.

“You don't want me,” Loki gasps out when Bruce lets him back up for air. “That's what you _said_. So what are you trying to prove here? You don't even want me.”

“Banner does,” Bruce murmurs, cupping a hand at Loki's chest as if he expects to find a breast there. His hand flattens, smooths over the material of Loki's shirt, glides tentatively up to run along the side of Loki's ribcage. “Sees himself in you.”

“How would you know?” Loki demands, but softly. “You never even look at me. None of you do- you see somebody I'm not. I'm not even the person you think you want.”

“Loki,” Bruce breathes out, his mouth closing on the crook of Loki's neck. “Trapped. Weak. Used. Broken. Always. You and Banner are the same. Wants to protect you from turning into us.” Loki doesn't have a good response to that, and when Bruce surges closer he wraps his legs around Bruce's waist, lets out a soft, keening sound when he feels the weight and heat of Bruce's cock, pressing against him.

_Close your eyes_ , Loki wants to tell him, or _Pretend you like me_ , or even _Pretend that you love me, say it_. Instead, Bruce pulls down Loki's pants and his own and Loki makes a strangled little noise against the side of Bruce's neck as Bruce curls his fingers around their cocks, and the faint whimper that tumbles past Loki's lips is, “Please don't hurt me.”

Bruce growls at that, but he's gentle, his other hand moving down behind Loki's back, to squeeze and cradle his ass as they rock together. Loki's sure Bruce has never done this with a guy- the way his hand moves, unsure and too soft, Loki's partly convinced that Bruce has never done this with himself, either. But even if it's weird, it's still... considerate. Loki angles his mouth closer, to suck lightly on Bruce's earlobe before whispering, “You won't break me if you go a little harder, Hulk.”

Bruce tenses, and Loki shouldn't have said that, it was wrong, he wants Bruce to get better, has visions of Barton and Bruce riding happily into the sunset together, but fuck, Bruce is moaning desperately into Loki's mouth now, and even the muffled sound of Bruce crying someone else's name is pretty hot when he's doing it with Loki's tongue in his mouth.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Later, when they're both cleaned off and in separate beds, Loki curls around his pillow and asks Bruce who Betty is.

Bruce ignores him, and eventually he decides that Bruce is asleep, and that he should be, too.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I think I'm a bad person,” Loki mutters, collapsing into a chair next to a distraught-looking Don and Tony. “I know I'm a bad person. A good person wouldn't do what I did. A good person would have calmly explained that he didn't know what he was doing and let him back out of the situation before things got too weird. Bruce was doing better, wasn't he? He was interacting, he left the room, he knew what was going on. That's better, isn't it?”

“What the fuck are you going on about, Loki?” Tony asks, and Loki sighs.

“I fucked the sanity out of Bruce last night.” Tony and Don both look nauseous, and Don buries his face in his hands. Loki wants to make a joke, but he's actually kind of miserable right now. “He's back to... thinking he's in a prison cell that he can't get out of. He doesn't remember anything that happened between now and a few days back.”

“It's not your doing, brother,” Don whispers. “His condition is... he was meant to revert to Dr. Banner at some point. It is just... it is a blow that it should happen now, of all times.” Loki sighs and reaches over to pat Don's shoulder.

“What happened? Lex Luthor figure out how to break into the Fortress of Solitude?” he asks, and Tony barks out a harsh laugh.

“Are you-” Tony stops, turns, actually, really _looks_ at Loki. “...you're not... you didn't get the message last night?”

“I did mention I was a little busy last night, yes?” Loki sighs, and spreads his hands open. “What more do you people want from me?”

“The message,” Tony repeats, looking panicky, while Don merely gazes thoughtfully with a fair imitation of Bruce's Zen Face. “Last night. The message from Doctor Strange. You didn't- he said everyone whose consciousness originated in our plane of existence was getting it! Steve, Bruce, Thor, me, we all-”

“Okay, derailing this conversation before it goes any further,” Loki says pleasantly. “Tony, where's Steve?”

“Coulson's office for an emergency session,” Tony sighs miserably. “The message from Strange... it didn't filter through correctly for Steve and, I'm guessing Bruce if Hulk's gone. He woke up screaming.” Loki uses his eyebrow lift on Tony until he continues. “...there's only one way to get back home for us. We have to-”

“Tony,” Don says warningly, and Tony breaks down again. It happens more and more lately, and it just... it makes something in Loki's chest twist. This guy was on top of the world; now he's... here. This. Loki hesitates, before reaching out and smoothing Tony's hair back.

“Tony,” Loki shushes, and shares an uncomfortable moment with Don when Tony collapses against him, sobbing. “Tony, it's okay. You're okay. Steve'll be back soon, we all know you love Steve, right? It's going to be fine.” Loki tries to reassure him, but Tony's crying something about _the only way_ , about no guarantee it'll work, and that someone has to go first and the other one has to stay and convince Steve and Bruce to do it.

Don won't meet Loki's eyes when he glances questioningly over at him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Neither Steve nor Tony is in the rec room the next day- just Don, his head in his hands. Loki finds out that Steve's in the infirmary on suicide watch, because Tony had been his roommate.

Had been.

_Tony_.

Loki grabs Don's arm, harder than he means to, and gives him a shake. “What's happened?” he demands, terror singing in his chest. “Where's Tony, Don?”

“This life is an anchor, Loki,” Don mutters, staring at nothing. “Our souls are tethered here, unable to escape to our true home.”

“Fuck,” Loki wails, and Don gives him another one of those strange looks, mingled recognition and pity and love. Don wraps his arms around Loki, and it's bizarre to be held, but he... Tony was his friend, too. Loki cries, fat burning tears that track down the alien landscape of his face, and Don rubs his back and hums a song that Loki's never heard before.

“Loki,” Don whispers, stroking Loki's hair a little. “I think it is plain now that you are not the brother I thought you were- but you are still him, you are still Loki, and that makes you forever my family. You will remain in my heart for all my life after I leave this world.”

“Oh, Jesus, Don,” Loki whimpers, using his sleeve to wipe his face off. “Come on. No. Not you. Steve needs you, now that Tony's gone. And Bruce is going to need you when he's himself again. You know that. Don't you know that? You can't leave them, Don. And Dr. Foster, what about her? Isn't she your true love or something? Don-”

“Loki,” Don sighs into Loki's shoulder, quiet for a moment. “I would... I would like it if you would call me by my name.”

“But you-” Loki takes a deep breath, and another. “Thor. Thor, please, okay? It doesn't have to go down like this. You have to stay for them, don't you? Didn't Tony say that? You have to stay and talk to Steve and Bruce.”

“Steve knows what he must do,” Don says quietly. “And I have no way to communicate this message to Bruce. Loki... _you_ -”

“No. Fuck you,” Loki snaps, shoving him back. “No. No. I'm not- I'm not going to be a party to this. Fuck off.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The rumor mill is unreliable, without Tony or Steve or Don. Some of the guys claim the staff found Tony's body hanging from a ceiling fan, and some say that it was just gone, and there were all these mysterious burn marks in his and Steve's room. Nobody will say what happened to Steve, but a nurse was sent home crying after his body was found.

Everybody knows what happened to Don, but nobody can figure out how he got out onto the roof in the first place.

Loki sits in Dr. Foster's office and stares at his knees, both of them silent for several minutes before Loki glances up, tentatively offers, “He called you his Sweet Jane.”

“He called you his little brother,” she replies softly, and it's almost enough for a smile.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Loki doesn't generally dream- or, well, he does, but they're never vivid enough to remember, so he has no real basis to go on, trying to decide how strange this situation is.

“You are the Loki of this world?” It's a giant head with a killer fu manchu that's asking him. Loki looks at himself, nods faintly. “I apologize for intruding on your dreams like this, Loki, but the situation is urgent.”

“This is a dream?” Loki repeats, although he's pretty sure he figured that one out when a huge ghostly bearded face showed up. “So what's on your mind, Zordon?”

“You must awaken the Hulk,” the face says, and Loki scowls, already shaking his head no. “What do you require to do this, Loki?”

“Already jumping to bargaining, are you?” Loki sighs, and the face doesn't change. “This is a dream. You're in my subconscious mind. And my mind is telling me that if I make Bruce turn into... other Bruce, he'll kill himself, right? No. That's not happening.”

“Loki, you do not know what you say. The fate of our world rests in his hands,” the face says, desperately. “What would you have, in exchange for your help?”

“He's my friend,” Loki snaps, tired of this dream. “I'd take him over the world, any day. Fuck off, Subconscious Mind.”

The face looks disappointed and also sad, and Loki can't remember the rest of the dream.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Loki wakes up in darkness, and it's terrible for a moment before he calms down enough to hear Bruce breathing. He sighs, and wonders if this is how it started for Bruce, for Don and Steve and Tony, with dreams and suspicions.

No. No way. Loki is still Loki. He knows what he wants. He knows that he doesn't want to leave Bruce in a position where he might-

-no. No. It's not going to happen.

Loki crawls out of his bed and into Bruce's, curling his arms around the man and breathing in the smell of his hair. _This_ , he thinks, closing his eyes. Bruce alive. Bruce _safe_. Loki couldn't help Tony or Steve or Don, but he can do this, he can protect this one man. It's enough. He can be enough.

He knows that men like Bruce can't be fixed. There is no riding off into the sunset for Bruce and Barton. But in a small, selfish way, Loki can dream of a happy ending of sorts.

Bruce opens his eyes, shifts awkwardly until he can see who's holding him, and gives Loki a faint, puzzled smile.

“Loki?” he asks sleepily, and god, the sound of it makes Loki just want to bury his face in Bruce's shoulder and never once let go. “What're you doing?”

“Bruce,” Loki sighs, stroking a hand across the front of Bruce's chest. So skinny. Loki could fix that, too, make sure Bruce eats more. “I can love you. That's okay, right? You need somebody to take care of you, and I need- I need-”

“Oh, Loki,” Bruce sighs, cupping the side of Loki's face. “Let us help you.” Loki considers this- knows that Bruce means Tony and Steve and Don, too, that he thinks Loki is the crazy one and Bruce is the normal one. But... but maybe it wouldn't hurt, to play along, just a little, just for Bruce. Maybe if he'd played along with Don, at least, he'd still be-

“Yes,” Loki sighs, leaning into the touch. “Okay. Sure. Yes. Help me, Bruce, please.” Bruce threads his fingers through Loki's hair, making soft, soothing sounds, and Loki thinks, _This is the crazy one._ This sweet, gentle man who just wants to take care of someone is the crazy one, and the asshole half who almost killed Loki, who speaks in grunts and snarls, is the sane part of Bruce. It doesn't make any kind of sense or fairness at all.

Loki sits up, straddling Bruce's waist, and puts Bruce's hands on his hips.

“You're a good man, Bruce Banner,” Loki tells him, and the pained expression that twists into an insincere smile breaks Loki's heart. “I never had an ounce of luck before I met you.”

“Loki-” Bruce breathes out, and something in his tone is almost a warning, which is... which is stupid. They're both half-asleep, and as far as Bruce is concerned, Loki is some sort of pathetic villain undergoing a heel-face-turn for the sake of some dick. Loki tries and mostly succeeds not to laugh at the mental image, grinding down a little against Bruce and sucking lightly at the corner of his jaw. “Loki, wait-”

There is a moment when Loki is just- he's just happy, he's content, he has a purpose now and it's actually nice, he can see himself making a nice little life if he has to. Bruce is breathing so hard, it's actually more than a little delicious, it makes Loki feel like he matters to somebody, finally-

Then Bruce actually flips Loki onto his back with a startled snarl, his eyes feral, and Loki is shocked, numb, panic choking him as Bruce calms down a little, but with that savage expression that turns into understanding, resignation.

“Don't do it,” Loki says, before Bruce can speak. “You can't. Bruce- Hulk- no, please, don't. It's a lie. It's not real, and it's not worth dying for.”

“If it's lies, how do you know them?” Bruce asks slowly, leaning down to ruffle Loki's hair. “Guess Strange came, told you to make me... me. Why do it if you didn't want this?”

“I didn't do it on purpose,” Loki pleads, latching onto fistfuls of Bruce's shirt. “It shouldn't _count._ I can't lose you, Bruce, you're the only one left, I couldn't protect them, but you- you I can hold on to, please, don't take this away from me.”

“You gotta look out for Barton,” Bruce says, almost patiently enough to be his normal self, and Loki hisses and slaps him in the face. Bruce bares his teeth, punching Loki in the jaw, hard enough to snap his head to one side, and Loki feels him tense up, tears already streaming down Loki's face. Bruce freezes, leans down, wipes the tears away.

“Sorry,” he rumbles, and puts his mouth to Loki's cheek and... sort of hoovers the wetness up, his lips pursed.

“Oh my god, you don't even know how to kiss anyone, you can't be real,” Loki sobs, hysterical enough that it comes out in a laugh. “Come here and let me teach you.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The first traces of cold dawn light are filtering in through the window, and Loki is being carried back to his bed. He hums and nuzzles against Bruce's shoulder, and Bruce makes a fond little sound before depositing him gently on the mattress.

“Thanks,” Bruce's voice rumbles close by, Bruce's breath warming Loki's ear, and Loki can hear the smile in Bruce's voice. Loki stretches and yawns and tries to snag Bruce's shirt to pull him close, but Bruce must already be back in his bed, and Loki is asleep again before he can tell Bruce to come back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bruce's bed is empty. Loki doesn't leave the room for breakfast, doesn't leave when it's time to talk to Dr. Foster. Eventually Barton shows up with a small cardboard box and starts wordlessly putting Bruce's meager belongings into it- books, reading glasses, a few trinkets, a dyed scarf hidden under his bed.

“I'm so sorry,” Loki says hoarsely, all the tears wrung out of him, and Barton gives him a slight nod, not looking his way.

“It's not your fault, Mr. Larson,” he says dully, hugging the box to his chest.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Here,” the old man says, wheeling himself over. Loki blinks down at him- he's old as balls and his hands are actually mangled-looking, twisted and ruined with decades-old scars. But he also looks vaguely familiar, and he's got a killer fu manchu 'stache, and he's pressing something into Loki's hands. “He told me to give you this. He said it's the luck you need. He said it was payment for doing what's right.”

“Who did?” Loki asks blankly, and the old man, for a moment, looks a little bit younger somehow.

“ _I did_. He did. The man in the dreams,” he says, and winks, which... creeps Loki right the fuck out. He wheels away, cackling to himself, and Loki looks down into his hand to see what the old creeper gave him.

It's a necklace- just a simple black cord tied off in a knot, with a pendant hanging down from it. It's some kind of light-colored crystal- Loki wants to say rose quartz, maybe?- and it's wrapped in twisted silver wires. Loki squints down at it- for a moment, the wires weren't random twists and knots. For a moment, there was a design there, a definite shape, a face, Bruce on a calm day, smiling-

Loki shakes his head sharply, and it's just a tangle of wire around a shiny little rock. He puts the necklace on, anyway.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There is a dream before this moment, but Loki does not remember it. It becomes important only when Loki turns and Bruce is there, smiling, but also partly shrouded, surrounded by greenish smoke that curls and towers over them.

“Oh,” Loki says weakly, and Bruce pulls him into a hug, squeezing him tightly. “I don't want to dream this. You're gone. You'll be gone when I wake up. No.”

“Thank you,” Bruce sighs into Loki's hair.

“For what?” Loki whispers, clinging to Bruce, knowing that it's false and needing it anyway. “I let you down. I let you die.”

“You helped me,” Bruce says, putting a finger to Loki's lips. “God, Loki, I never thought I'd be saying this, but I think the Hulk would have lost it if you hadn't been there.”

“Ugh,” Loki mutters, and Bruce grins.

“You got the necklace, right? You could walk out of there at any time, if you wanted.” He adjusts glasses that are slimmer and more streamlined than the ones Barton carried away in the box, and gives Loki a shy little wink. “But I think we'd all appreciate it if you kept an eye on Clint. He's a good guy, you know?”

“I do know,” Loki sighs, letting go of Bruce. “I know that.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This is stupid. It's beyond stupid. Loki had a dumb dream about someone he loved, someone who's dead now, and that is not any sort of rational basis for an escape attempt. (Escape to where?)

Still. Loki walks nonchalantly to the bathroom, his back to the rec room.

There's a workman doing something to the window, the pane propped open. He walks out of the bathroom almost as soon as Loki walks in, murmuring under his breath about a tool he needs. There is a little stepladder against the wall. It's almost stupidly easy, and Loki figures that even if he makes it through the window before the guy comes back, there will be a guard or someone just outside.

Just to prove it, Loki steps up and climbs out. There's no one outside. Loki drops to his feet and walks cautiously towards the fence.

No one stops him. No one sees him. There is a marshy wooded area on the other side of the fence, and after a shaky, unsteady climb over, Loki lands on the one relatively dry place, the grass clean and free of mud.

Loki walks for most of the day, half-expecting to be stopped, to be apprehended, to be taken back. It doesn't happen. Loki makes it to a road, and there's a small gas station nearby, and Loki thinks it might be nice to use a bathroom and also clean up in the sink.

The bathroom doors are outside and unlocked. Loki freshens up a little, mainly making sure his face and hands are clean- he showered this morning, so his hair isn't much worse for wear. He almost walks out the door before he notices the folded bill on the ground near the overflowing trash barrel. Despite his horror at picking up something so obviously filthy, Loki gingerly snags it between thumb and finger.

It's a ten dollar bill, and Loki feels like he could probably go for some coffee right about now. And hey, maybe a scratch-off lotto ticket, just for shits and giggles.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Three days later, Loki's standing on the doorstep to what he hopes is Clint Barton's apartment.

He doesn't hope. He _knows_.

Luck is on Loki's side, and he's too exhausted, mentally and physically, to give a crap about much anymore.

The door opens and Clint recognizes him, and Loki holds up his hands.

“First, let me just say that- if they didn't want anyone on the rational end of the scale to escape, they shouldn't have left windows open, and they should probably have security guards around the fence. That's practically an invitation to leave, okay?”

“Okay,” Barton says slowly, giving Loki the stink-eye. “Why are you here, then?”

“Because I keep winning money on scratch-offs,” Loki sighs, “and I need a valid address and ID to collect the bigger prizes.” He pulls out a stack of lotto cards, handing them over for inspection. “You can have most of it. I'm still trying to figure out what I'm going to do.”

“I can't take this,” Barton sighs, passing a hand over his face. “Mr. Larson, you need help. You should go back-”

“Bruce talked about you,” Loki interrupts, watching the nurse's reaction. “You were his best friend. And he was _mine_. And I know I can't measure up to you, and that our friendship can't measure up to the years of history you guys shared, but I just... I thought you should know that he was important to me. He was literally all I had, and losing him... I don't know. I thought I had a reason to live, if I could just take care of him somehow, and I lost him and I lost that.”

“I'm sorry,” Barton says, and he seems sincere. “I think you were a bright spot in his life, too.”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Loki agrees, folding his arms across his chest. “But you were probably everything else that was good. One of the last... one of the last things he said to me, he wanted me to look out for you.”

“That's not why you broke out,” Barton points out, and Loki nods.

“Yeah, you're right. I broke out to see if I could. But I did, and you haven't called the cops or anything, so I figure... so I figure that you might not call the cops if I don't do anything stupid. Can I stay on your couch for a couple nights?” Loki asks, and Barton shrugs.

“We'll see how I feel tomorrow.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

One night becomes two, becomes a week, becomes a month. They stop tiptoeing around one another. Clint doesn't find it odd that Loki keeps going out and bringing home scratch-off tickets and winning tidy sums of money.

(He's not sure, but he thinks the luck would vanish if he tried to go for a weekly drawing or the powerball.)

Loki doesn't find it odd that Clint just doesn't go to work one day, and never goes back.

(He doesn't really need to, now. Loki's glad to feel a little useful.)

Loki cooks dinner, and while they're eating he glances over at Clint and tells him that Bruce had told him that they'd met in Brazil. Clint smiles for the first time in six weeks and starts telling Loki the story of how he ran into Bruce, fresh off the plane.

It's maybe not what Loki would have chosen for himself, but it's nothing to be ashamed of.

 


End file.
